Your majesty
by cryptic.kaffee
Summary: It is years and years after The World Wars have ended. But a new threat looms over society. Past ghosts and grudges. The Chinese are making the Japanese suffer for all the things they did to them. Human characters; Emperor! China x Peasant! Japan ChuNi/NiChu
1. Chinese New Year

**Author's note: Please read the note written in bold closer to the bottom of the page after you've read this chapter- I just wanted to post something VERY important. Danke.**

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Large cylinders of lit yellows and white bobbed aimlessly into the inky colored sky. Paper balloons like the ones that had already escaped from Earth to the dark heavens could be seen up close much easier; they shone like beautiful flecks of gold against the darkness all around. Intricate and elegant looking Chinese writing showed crimson and alight on the surface of the ornamental decorations.

Various civilians dressed in fancy, celebratory fύ shawls wandered the streets without a care in the world. Occasionally they would point merrily toward a particularly bright or colorful display (it mattered not whether the enhancements to the festival something as serious and large as the New Year's dragon, or something so unimportant by itself such a food carts that tied the whole display of joy and well-wishing for a new year) and point it out to their fellows or children.

The center building was draped in classic Asian silk and only the finest pieces of artwork were granted the highest honor of setting their magnificent sets even close to the tower's polished name, and show it off to the whole great city of Beijing. Smaller buildings provided a basis to hold up the luminous carts and stuffed, full-body sized dragons. They may not have purposely contributed to the great yearly celebration, but their positive air seemed to refresh the air and let the citizens present breath true life and happiness.

Kiku almost self-consciously pulled his hood further up his face, and adjusted the sleeves of his cloak so they hid his pulsating armlet. He made a hazardous glance around his shoulder to be sure nobody had seen his suspicious movements. He didn't think anyone had made convincing witness.

He didn't belong here. Who had he been kidding when he told himself he'd be safe in Beijing? He stood out like a panther in the middle of the Antarctic. All these people here wore flashy and luminous outfits while he was the only one clad in black.

Kiku felt like he needed to hit himself. He had thought that by attending one of the most crowded cities for Chinese New Year would shelter, hide, and protect him. There were so many people. So, obviously, nobody would pay attention to a 5'5 seventeen year old, right? Wrong. Even now while Kiku had buried himself in his own deep thoughts, he still registered local people pointing toward his figure and not bothering to hide their obvious interest and discomfort at him being there. He was attracting too much attention. He needed to go. Start his run now and maybe head for the Mongolian border, or hide in an alleyway until this whole celebration blew off.

Well….Mongolia wasn't a very attractive prospect for a Japanese at the moment, they were still feeling a bit anti-Japan at the moment like China, but at least there were working protection acts for runaways trying to gain their fair share of Asia.

Kiku shook his head and let out a tiny grunt while clutching at his covered chest and trying hard not to blanch. Damn. Stupid wristlet. He could thank his temporary parental figure at the orphanage for this stupid thing. Kiku didn't dare to check his armlet out in the middle of a crowd; someone could see, cry out and alert the officials, and Kiku would either end up as just another abandoned orphan or a nice little prison cell all to himself.

It was blatantly obvious to Kiku by now that he wouldn't be able to linger in this crowd for much longer without somebody questioning him on his lack of celebratory dress, and he knew that even if he did somehow make it out of Beijing in less than 3 hours (which was the countdown until the celebration that day came to a halt) and manage to cross at least a few miles into woodland, he would never survive the night. The surroundings were to foreign, too cool, too unsatisfactory for even a few days survival. He would have to pack down for the night and gather supplies the following day. The daytime was the only period during the Chinese new year where it seemed to all settle down a bit.

Besides, every year the wonderful, saintly emperor blessed a city of his or her choice with their company. They would stand to make a ceremonial speech describing new victories against the evil race that was the Japanese people, how the demons would pay for their awful sabotages during The World Wars, and how they, the Chinese citizens, would prevail in the end. Just after Kiku had already entered to deeply into the city of Beijing to escape, he had started seeing official ads and pop-up displays announcing that the current Emperor of China (a man going by the name of Fu Chong) and his 17 year old son, Wang Yao, (Kiku didn't understand why this son had a different surname than his father) were going to hold the famous public speech right in the smack-center of Beijing.

Wonderful, isn't it?

Just another reason for Kiku to bunk down and hide so he didn't have to live in mortal terror of being captured and taken prisoner. Or…executed.

Kiku had heard rumors of the Chinese killing and raping any Japanese caught in their territory. And how, according to Kiku's little sister, apparently after the Chinese had finished their work, they would eat their victims organs and drink the blood for their wine. Kiku remembered Mother scolding Lin Yi Ling and dragging her by the ear toward her room for punishment. Mother and Father had both told us in very hushed tones to never speak of the Chinese in such a way. Those rumors were not true.

"The Chinese are not all bad people," Mother had explained slowly. "There are those who might want to hurt Japan, but that group is limited. Many citizens of China are quite level-headed and good people. Do you all remember Bao-san? Your caretaker?"

We had all nodded in unison (my brother and one cousin, Im Yong Soo and Kasem Chao). We had all loved Bao-san; she was our babysitter when we were around the age of 8. It had been a while (at least 3 years) since we'd last seen her. We had all liked her so much, that, when Mother and Father were not around, we would refer to her as Bao-chan or Bao-kun. Yong Soo also liked to call Bao our new "aniki".

"She is a wonderful example, as she is Chinese. I promise children, I will explain more later. But for now, it is time for sleep."

But that whole memory had happened 6 years ago. 6 long years had passed since Kiku had been separated from his family, forced to live in an orphanage until the age of 15, and then took off on an unchecked cargo ship to the body of east Asia. How exactly none of the crew had found a teenager hunkered in the lower decks scavenging off of stray peanuts, Kiku never found out.

The force of a blunt object crashing into Kiku brought him out of his trance. The strength of the impact forced the Japanese to the ground on his ass; Pain shot up Kiku's hip on contact with the hard stone ground. Before Kiku could even react to what had just happened, he felt a thick, leathery hand reach down and pull him back up.

He was met with the sight of the person he had collided with; he looked just as flustered as he himself did. The other teenager had also fallen, and the big black man who had helped Kiku up moved to brush the boy off, but the Chinese put up a hand in a 'stop' command. Kiku was too worried about his exposed wrist to really care though. He hurriedly shoved his dark sleeve back down over his irremovable wristlet and thought for just a moment the boy had seen the mark as his eyes seemed to find the tag. Then the Japanese supposed he was just turning paranoid as the teen's face was unfazed by the circlet he may not have even noticed.

Now that Kiku was back on his feet he could take a good look at the boy. He could tell the other was probably Chinese like he had originally guessed (he had the slightly rounder facial features), and he was dressed in completely plain white robes and a single navy blue shawl around one shoulder. There was no hat on this boy's head like most of the people currently roaming the streets; only his hair was slicked back and a raven ponytail snaking over his shoulder. Kiku also couldn't help but notice that the Chinese was fairly taller than him, too. And….there was something vaguely familiar about that face. Like, he had seen it in a crowd of detached faces of celebrating groups.

Out of pure habit, Kiku started to begin a traditional Japanese bow to apologize for accidently ramming into him, but stopped. His blood ran cold and fear rushed through him as he realized his mistake. Trying to come out of the bow like he had just stumbled by accident, Kiku looked the other in his dark gold eyes and murmured, "My apologies, sir."

Kiku did not see the other's eyes narrow mid-bow. The boy nodded to him and held his head high. "As am I, sir." Kiku could hear the odd ring to the boy's voice as he said "sir". Like the word was foreign on his tongue.

The Chinese boy opened his mouth and looked like he wanted to ask a question, but before he could word whatever was on his mind, Kiku raced quickly past him and the bodyguard.

Follow the streets, follow the streets. Blend in, don't let them catch up with you.

Kiku constantly shot quick glances over his shoulder every 10-15 seconds so as not to seem paranoid to bystanders. They were gone. No, they ARE gone. 'Kiku, you baka, stop looking over your shoulder like a paranoid old fox.'

The crowd began to thin out for the oncoming festival. People split into groups of 5's and 6's while some sat down on nearby wooden benches and chatted. Kiku was absolutely sure he had lost the Chinese boy and his bodyguard. That reassurance in mind, he let out a sigh and stopped to take shift on the closest park seat.

Kiku could hear the sounds of drums and music pour over him like resistant waves. The festivities must have begun. Kiku unwillingly envisioned himself as being part of the dancing crowd of regular civilians just celebrating another new year. He immediately scolded himself for thinking such thoughts. He didn't belong here. This was not his home.

'Besides,' Kiku thought to himself. 'You go over there with the Chinese and somebody sees your wrist, (or your clothing for that matter) than this game is over. You will either wind up dead, or imprisoned, or….or….. Kiku couldn't bring himself to think of the last possibility. That would never happen to him.

And those were the last thoughts in Kiku's mind before he fell into the darkness of the dream world.

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Grunting and the sound of hoots and liquor bottles being smashed was what woke Kiku. For a moment he thought he was not yet fully awake. That happened to him an awful lot; he would think the world he was living in was reality, but only to become harshly aware only seconds later that this was no dream. Those thoughts were confirmed correct as three black silhouettes made their way drunkenly toward Kiku's direction. Kiku seriously doubted they were heading for him, but it's always best not to be in the path of stoned men.

Kiku stuffed his miniature duffel bag inside of his cloak and anxiously hopped from his seat to the concrete ground. The ground supported his weight, but Kiku didn't feel right.

One of the shadows seemed to be pointing towards Kiku. No, no that couldn't be right…. It was probably just something else. The second figure socked its fellows hardly on the arms and numbers one and three walked steadily behind their leader. The people were coming right towards him. Now would be a good time to bail.

Kiku tried his best to walk without looking nervous or frightened. He kept his gait steady and firm by biting his lip until it bled. It helped Kiku release pressure.

Most of the left over lights from the New Year's festival had gone out. The streets were pitch-black. All the doors were closed, bolted, and locked tightly. Nobody seemed to have their windows up. He could hear those people (Kiku was now sure they were men by the sound of their walk) coming closer. It felt like they were right behind him.

Kiku forced himself not to look behind him. It would only show his….attackers weakness and opportunity.

A hand touched his shoulder, and, before Kiku could react, spun him around completely so that he was looking shadow number two straight in the face. Number two was most certainly East Asian. He was tall and looked to be on steroids with oddly large coal eyes and similarly colored short hair. Numbers one and two were nowhere to be found.

The man smiled sickeningly. He had yellow teeth. "Say, kid, you lost?" He purred. "I know the way back to the capitol. Buddies and I help you 'git there and ask the employee at the counter for directions."

The Asian man fondled his cheek and he felt blood rush into his cheeks. The man's smile evolved to a leer. Kiku smacked the hand away.

"No thank you," Kiku said coldly. "I am not lost, and if I was, I'm perfectly capable of finding directions on my own." Kiku had just given the Chinese his best death glare when he felt a hand clench his arm and shove him into the dirty, hard ground below. Immediately, the Japanese started to kick, spit, and bite; his back arching every time he got close enough to knock the sick pervert out.

One of Kiku's kicks landed squarely in the man's jaw, and he felt immense satisfaction as the crack of a bone being snapped echoed in his ears.

Those yellow teeth bore at him. "Now, listen, beauty. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Choose carefully now…" Kiku only spat in his face. The man laughed and shoved Kiku's sleeves up, revealing the race identification bracelet. One that proved to the whole world of Kiku's full-blooded status as Japanese.

Kiku knew how these little things worked; any person of one race could not take off another's armlet, but anyone belonging to a full-blooded status as a Chinese could remove a ringlet any time they wanted. The rules were extremely easy to get around and full of loopholes, but Kiku hadn't met anyone willing to help him ever since he lost track of his parents. Let alone a pure Chinese.

"Well, well, well." The man clicked his tongue. "One so unfortunate enough to belong to the Japanese pure group in a Chinese town. How unlucky for you." He tapped the bracelet and tugged slightly on it. "I may not be pure Chinese," his fingers moved slowly up Kiku's arm, "I'm Islamic as well. I suppose it is not in my rights to remove this for you, beauty. But…." A truly evil smile lit the man's features.

"I could always sell you to the authorities for a fair amount of yen."

At the world 'sell', Kiku completely lost it. He threw every bit of his weight at the Asian. Kicked and tried to punch. His face contorted into a threatening snarl.

He expected the man to pin his arms and legs. Beat him. Any worse possible case scenario.

Instead, something even Kiku wouldn't have been naïve enough to hope for happened. Help came. Or, at the time Kiku thought it was help. It depends on how you look at the situation.

The gold-eyed, plain dressed boy reappeared just behind the man now holding him down. Kiku tried to signal to the other to go, to move. There was no way a teen could take down a bulky, muscled adult.

The boy reached down and tapped the man on the shoulder.

The man turned around, eyes glazed.

A fist launched itself into the man's sharp face, spattering dark blood everywhere. The bigger Asian bellowed in pain while holding his hands up to his broken nose trying to stem the flow. The boy calmly flicked his hand over toward the scrambling man slipping in a puddle of his own blood. Two gunshots rang throughout the night sky, and number one first fell to his knees. Then, collapsed, dead, face-down into the ground.

Kiku turned toward the teenager who had just saved him from being…

'Yao Wang. No, no way. This is not who I think it is.'

The Emperor's son. His heir to the seat of China. And the wielder to the key to Kiku's fate.

He was so screwed.

Yao's hand grabbed Kiku's arm none to gently where the sicko had just did the same, and pulled the Japanese up towards him.

"You're shaking." He said bluntly. Not yet as harsh as insensitivity, but neither caring either.

Kiku tried to stop his shaking

"I'm cold." He mumbled. "Do you have a, er…" Yao didn't wait for Kiku to finish his sentence. Giving Kiku an all too knowing look, he whistled, and a different body guard than the one who Kiku had seen earlier appeared at Yao's side. The guard very unwillingly gave up his coat to Yao Wang, who threw the much too large piece of material toward him. Kiku caught it, but the words 'thank you' stuck in his throat.

Yao made a 'come hither' gesture with his hand, and waited at the side of a shiny black car that Kiku guessed he had missed because he had been to focused on being molested. Kiku did not move. But he did ask a question.

"Where are we going?"

Yao only sighed and opened the door to the car, but did not climb in. "Where else?" He said impatiently. "The palace. My home."

Still, Kiku stayed rooted to the spot.

"You were following me?"

Yao seemed annoyed at all of Kiku's questions.

"No," he answered tartly. "You ran into me, you came across my path at The New Year's festival. I saw your insignia. Full-blooded Japanese. The Japanese are unwelcome to China.

"Myself and a few select guards joined me to following you throughout the rest of the day. We had agreed we must do what the law required us to do. Our original plan was to detain and question…." Yao's eyes slid to the dead Asian man lying in the corner.

"We were quite impressed with your fighting skills, Kiku Honda of Japan. I am now here not to make arrest, but to value compromise. I can offer you a new life; there's nothing left for you here. Or in Japan. Your family is gone, and so are your friends . A spot with our crew could change all that uncertainty, Kiku."

How do they know my family left me?

What has happened to Japan? What do you speak of?

Something told Kiku they weren't 'recruiting' him for his fighting skills.

'I will play along. I want to push my limits with you people. There is nothing left for me hear. I will pretend to be your little blind puppy. Just you wait. I know manipulation when I see it.'

"Hai, I will come."

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**Author's note once again: Back when I was writing a chapter when Lin Yi Ling (Taiwan) was spreading rumors to Kiku, South Korea, and Thailand, that's just what those words were-rumors.**

**Meaning, in the story, neither the Chinese government OR citizens actually commit those things. It was only supposed to be portrayed as ridiculous gossip spread to scare the Japanese people themselves (in the story, not in reality) people come up with the most ludicrous stories during times of war: that's what I was trying to point out. I apologize if I did an unsatisfactory job in doing so. But, I did wright out that the rumors were false and not to be taken seriously. I also made Kiku's "parental figures" defensive on the Chinese people's side, and gave an example.**

**Nothing written on their was opposing any current Chinese or Japanese citizens. None of that material was supposed to be viewed as opposition, and it ALSO wasn't supposed to be offensive material. **

**Thank you for your understanding, and I am again very sorry if that offended you.**


	2. Like silk

The dark haired woman smiled warmly in a comforting manner as she ushered him to lay down on a raised platform. The paper covering the bed-like seat crackled loudly as Kiku uncertainly placed his feet on it, and eventually deposited the rest of his very sore body on it.

This had not been what he had been expecting.

The moment that Yao and his security had parked into the lot in front of an extravagantly decorated building, Kiku wasn't sure what was going to happen. The car had gone through many overviews by official guards of the palace; they had been most unfriendly toward Kiku and had asked Yao many questions. Kiku remembered being infuriated as the heir to China had continued to chat away with the security in perfectly fluent Chinese. A language Kiku knew virtually nothing about. The guards had eventually allowed them to pass through the front gates, and Kiku asked Yao if they spoke English

"No." He said, staring ahead emotionlessly with his hand on his forehead. "I wouldn't think so. Do you speak Mandarin?"

"No."

Yao almost smirked. "Good."

Kiku only glared, but quickly stopped as his royal snobness's bodyguards cracked their big knuckles threateningly and shot him down. The Japanese had refused to speak since then. Especially since the words exchanged between all the Chinese in the car was Mandarin, and Kiku only recognized a few words.

Japanese, foreigner, and dirty. He had been extremely offended.

Yao had told the security something in a clear, and demanding voice. Of course, it was not English, Japanese, or Korean so Kiku had no idea what words were being exchanged from royal to servant. The bodyguards had nodded and pushed him none too gently ahead of them. The smaller of the two had instructed Kiku to walk straight ahead and not to even think of running.

The Japanese snorted; even he wasn't so reckless as to try to escape from a building so heavily guarded that it made Washington D.C.'s white house protection look pathetic. If the Chinese man had noticed Kiku's actions, he took no notice of it.

Kiku was sure the décor at the palace was beautiful, but, to be honest, he couldn't focus on anything except for the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. After many twists and turns, a few flights of stairs leading up the building, and many curious glances from passing servants, they finally reached a metal door. The bodyguard had told him it was an infirmary. Kiku guessed that made sense.

He had been prepared for the worst as a waiting servant pushed open the door and told a person in the room (in English, thank goodness) that the 'guest' had arrived. A cheery, but disembodied and heavily accented Cantonese voice had replied back 'thank you', and Kiku heard the sound of shoes shuffling across the room and closer to the hallway.

A woman looking to be in her mid-thirties had given the two security guards a smile and approving nod and told them they could go now, and that she would take it from there. One of the bodyguards blushed and fiddled with his hands as she released them; the other one just grunted.

Kiku caught a glimpse and saw her name written in black Arial English letters on her badge; Mei Ling. There were Chinese (or was it perhaps Cantonese?) characters printed neatly above her name; Kiku guessed that maybe that was how you spelled her name in her native language.

"You have been a very polite patient." Mei observed, smiling. Kiku jumped slightly as his recent recollection ended at the sound of her voice. "Many soldiers and guards who are in need of my assistance can be very impolite. I know they're important to the country, but, oh, what a crowd." She stopped and smiled wryly. "And how ironic that the first decent patient I have is Japanese; the scourge of all Asian pride." Mei tut-tutted under her breath and gently grabbed his wrist holding his band.

"So…." She looked down to check the wristlet, "Kiku Honda, how long have you been on the road? You seem to be in poor conditions." Kiku only shrugged as Mei carefully rapped on the bracelet, (just as the man had done) and with a soft 'click', the constant source of Kiku's discomfort and worry popped cleanly off of his skin, leaving only a thin red line from its long stay.

He couldn't help but be slightly dumbfounded as the doctor almost carelessly through the circlet to an empty tray beside the covered operating table. The thing was finally gone. If he made it out of here free and alive, (unfortunately though he most likely **wouldn't**) he could be able to wander the streets without the nauseating and constant fear of being discovered.

Mei must have seen Kiku's eyes glow and his breath quicken, because she gave him a look of pity and quickly explained, "Oh, laowai, please do not your hopes to high. I hate to be a so harsh and upfront, but, if a foreigner such as yourself enters this little mess my country has stirred up, it's not likely you'll be going anywhere soon."

The feeling of exhilarating hope that had grown so quickly in Kiku's chest died just as soon as it had sprouted. The Japanese dearly wanted to explain himself to Mei; that he already knew how far his limits reached in this country, but he couldn't get the words out. Instead, he only sighed and hunched slightly. "Hai." He whispered. "T-thank you for not lying to me."

Mei only nodded and put a hand on her patient's shoulder in a comforting way. "Of course, laowai. There is no point in comforting lies; I swear you will never hear a single untruth slip from my mouth." She smiled at him and Kiku forced a quivering one back.

"Now," she said brightly, "I will give you a sentient to help sooth your nerves. After all, you must be exhausted from such a day!" Mei laughed and the corners of her mouth created dimples. Kiku smiled for real now. It was nice to her somebody speaking to him so kindly; he had not been the subject of such true friendliness for a very long time. The Cantonese woman guffawed.

"In fact," a tiny and embarrassed snort started on her face, "I can only imagine being rescued by a Chinese prince, taken into care, and asked for a spot on the-" Mei Ling stopped suddenly. She covered her mouth as though realizing she had said too much. Kiku gave her a curious look and was half-tempted to ask what she had almost let slip, but the almost scared eyes and pale skin made him pause after he had just opened his mouth.

Kiku stared determinedly at the paper on which he was seated on, pretending he had not been listening properly. The Japanese looked up at her with a faux guilty expression plastered convincingly on his face.

"I'm sorry, Mei-san," he murmured. "I was not paying you proper attention." Kiku then made to move off of the operating table. Mei looked flustered, but did not move. Kiku made a sincere bow, and quietly asked the secretary to forgive him.

The Cantonese let out a small sigh of comfort, thinking that Kiku had not heard the almost revealed classified information. She waved toward him nonchalantly. "Oh, not to worry, Mr. Honda." she giggled. "We all slip off into our dreams every now and then."

Kiku was just about to reply back in defense as Mei took Kiku's hand. He wanted to shove her away, but stopped immediately, feeling ashamed of himself. Mei had already proved herself to have no ill-intentions toward him. Actually, she was technically his superior, and, by Chinese law, it was completely in her rights to do anything she so pleased with him.

'Do not dishonor her in such a way, Kiku Honda!' he thought to himself.

Shame, shame, shame!

Seeming to sense Kiku's discomfort, Mei muttered comforting Chinese sounding words under her breath, too focused on rubbing strong-smelling alcohol on the Japanese's arm so that it was properly wetted. She gave the same spot a last scrub, and threw the piece of cotton into the same nearby metal tray she had put Kiku's wristlet in. That was not hard for Kiku to watch. What really made him burst into inward hysterics was the thick needle Mei pulled out of nowhere and held toward his skin.

On pure instinct, Kiku jerked violently away from the sharp thing. Mei did not seem to be surprised at his actions; this type of thing was to be expected from anybody, really.

She again attempted to sooth him by running her long-nailed fingers thoroughly across Kiku's hair. Kiku shivered contently as the hand scraped a bit harshly across his scalp; it felt good. A faint, but noticeable, red tinge appeared across Kiku's cheeks as he slumped into the crinkly covers. Mei, again, chuckled victoriously. She liked helping others, and wished for these types of procedures to go as easy on her patients as possible.

Her hand still ran across Kiku's raven hair as the needle buried itself deep inside his flesh. The Japanese hissed, and tried to put his own hand up to his pained arm, but Mei quickly smacked it back. You can only make an operation worse by pulling the needle out itself and having the victim of circumstance only half-induced with medicine.

The shot's drug forced its way into Kiku's system instantaneously; it was a bit like the stimulate anesthesiologists used on their patients before the experienced doctors started a planned procedure for healing purposes on the knocked-out body lying spread eagle on plain surface.

Kiku grinned out of his senses and wobbled dangerously before he drunkenly fell face-down on the operating mat. Mei grabbed his shoulder, trying to support him, but Kiku flopped back down into his original position. A drunken giggle escaped his pink lips as a funny sensation started in his toes, and spread its way up his small body.

"T-this feels funny, Mai Lange…" he slurred. Mei took no notice, annoyance, or offense at the drugged teen in front of her. Of course he wouldn't be able to pronounce her name correctly; people _did _to become a bit….exhausted and loopy during former operation.

"Damn," she muttered Cantonese under her breath as Kiku's cloudy eyes very slowly started to slide shut. "Why this place can't afford half-decent medicine?" It was true that the emperor seemed to hold much more stock in décor than proper remedies. It took much longer than it should have for a patient to be properly unconscious before she could start her work.

Finally, Kiku gave a final exhausted snore, and sprawled into the sheets. Before Mei had even grabbed her stock of medication pills she needed to first use on the Japanese before checking his health and vital signs, he curled and brought his knees up to his chest. He looked like an oversized roly-poly.

Mei gave a little titter, as Kiku was just so _cute _that position. A last fond laugh made its way out of her lips as she carefully unraveled the boy's limbs and started her work to hook him to a winking metal machine standing in a close corner. This wouldn't take too long.

Kiku woke to an extremely unpleasant pounding in his head; like he'd had too many glasses of alcohol and had gotten drunk overnight. But, no, that couldn't be right. He never drank for fear of accidently doing something foolish he would regret later. It was safer that way.

It also took the Asian to notice that he was also in a very foreign setting, very, **very **different. A real, actual, live room. With…. (Kiku looked down to see silken gold covers wrapped snugly around his slender frame) a _bed._

And a Chinese one at that.

The feeling of Kiku's intoxication seemed to dissipate slightly due to the wonder and shock at waking to such a surrounding. His still foggy (but slowly clearing and sharpening) eyes scanned his new expanse. It had been such a long time since he had had a true place to comfortably sleep.

At the back of Kiku's mind he realized he wasn't entirely out of the clearing yet, though. He may have been a bit demented from the medicine he half-remembered Mei giving him, but he was still sober enough to understand he was in enemy territory and completely surrounded by only God knows how many competitors.

His pale hand reached up to rub his eyes, trying to clear them to better take in his surroundings. It didn't help in the slightest. Everything was still blurry, but, nevertheless, it became exceedingly easier to view smaller details. His vision was still poorer than usual, (the effects blurred the outlines of various furniture throughout the room) but it wasn't like he was blind.

The traditional Chinese canopy bed that he was still comfortably seated in (Kiku had raised himself up on the oak base to get a better look around him) was slightly raised by a smaller platform supporting the bed's weight, lifting its occupant higher above ground. The silk sheets still wrapped around Kiku's body and providing wonderful warmth to him, was indeed a deep and wealthy-looking gold. It shimmered magically every time Kiku made the slightest movement and sunlight hit it; the rays seemed to be caught in the material like trapped, glowing beams of life itself.

Although the blanket above the Japanese was glorious and royal, the sheets clinging tightly to the bed's mattress itself were a deep, crimson red. The Chinese-worshipped color symbol of luck and warder of demons. It gave Kiku this unexplainable sense of security just by looking at it.

A single, but thick layer of soft drapes were pinned to the very top of the (maybe this room was Kiku's…?) extravagantly decorated canopy; its long folds reached to the floor. Kiku realized he only had to pull those covers back and he would be granted the wonderful, leisurely idea of true privacy. Something he had not really experienced in so long. He realized the wood frame of the bed had tiny curves carved elegantly into the wood. Untamable shapes that swirled endlessly in its own restrictions.

The Japanese was very tempted to reach out and touch the smooth bumps on the mahogany wood. It just looked so tempting, and Kiku couldn't wrap his mind around why those decorations pulled him so much.

His now clear eyes rested upon a flame-colored divan sitting to the wall and right of him. The cloth was poofy, and it made Kiku want to jump on it. That is, if he hadn't felt like he would pass out at any given moment.

An easel was folded carefully and stacked onto a rounded and carved Chinese mini-table. Also occupying the dark end table stood a plain, pristine white lamp, many assortments of written papers that Kiku had no idea what they could all possibly contain, and a single violet pen.

The two alabaster ottoman surrounding the tiny island were neatly, but unoriginally arranged to fit the light, (and slightly square) atmosphere. The footstool's design may have seemed plain to Kiku, but the dot of clearness among the endless red, gold, and brown pulled the whole room together quite nicely.

Bamboo shoots tipped slightly grey-ish at the tip were carefully assorted into a stray vase decorated with sky blue swirls was put strategically in the would-be empty corner beside the bed, giving the slightly modern surroundings a touch of traditional Asia.

Dim light finally seemed to reach Kiku's eyes, and it made him squint and stare up at the source. Just as he had thought. The bamboo and canopy bed apparently wasn't the only Chinese décor staying in the room. The light seemed a bit yellow, and it reflected upon the rest of every piece of furniture. The traditional Chinese lantern also, like pretty much everything else in the room, had pre-planned form, but from its height, Kiku could not make it out.

He wasn't really sure why, but not being able to really see the architecture filled him with disappointment.

A single, ginormous bookshelf sparkling with countless hard-backed novels filled a whole, entire portion of the room. Two chests and one cabinet sat straight and proud close to the island he had been admiring earlier. The trio of furniture was completely ecru, but the light occasionally switched a portion of its body to a lighter shade of amber.

Kiku again stole a glance toward the night stand containing an alarm clock and lamp, and noticed something he had not before.

A note lay, curled slightly around the edges and a bit wrinkled around the yellow edges, close to the end of the table.

Curious, Kiku reached toward the shrunk piece of paper. He felt the silk covers slide across his small body as he moved, and once again, balls of yellow light flashed radiantly across its cover. Kiku slightly registered the long sleeves of his navy blue hanfu snake around his wrist pleasantly as he caught the note in his hand. Kiku didn't even stop to wonder how these new clothes came to him.

'_To our guest, Riben_:' (Kiku stopped reading for a moment. He recognized the characters for his native country 'Japan' written where his name should have been. He again turned his attention back to the letter.)

'_You have been transferred to a temporary living suite customary for your new conditions and business at the palace. If you have proved yourself trustworthy, Riben, you have the slim possibility of being recruited for higher purpose in the empire. A great honor for someone of your kind.'_

(Kiku felt his cheeks burn. They weren't seriously referring to him as a potential military power, were they?)

'_You most likely will have noticed the alarm clock set on the nightstand beside your bed. When the clock strikes precisely 6:01 p.m., it will be mandatory for you to join your new superiors in meeting for placing. You have been presented with directions. They are taped to the back of this sheet. Follow those directions, and do not even consider disobeying orders. _

'_Fresh clothes have been handled and set out for you on the small island beside the pantry.'_

(Kiku felt his mouth water slightly. There was a pantry? There was his own storage for food here?)

'_You are required to bathe yourself before heading out. Gather the lathing soap in the bathroom and apply it generously over yourself after you have finished cleaning. It will calm any nerves you may have. Again, this is required. You will fully understand the necessities of this process very soon._

'_Leave this room after following and completing __every __direction listed above. Bring this note with you as proof and give it to the guard standing outside the door to your destination._

'_You should have woken at 4:57 p.m. You have roughly an hour to prepare. Do not talk to anyone you may cross._

'_Good luck.'_

_-Chinese martial Fei (strictly classified rank and identity)_

For another moment, Kiku only stared blankly at the paper still resting in the palm of his hand. He looked over to the clock. It was exactly 5:03 p.m. now. That meant he had 58 minutes to prepare.

He didn't really register that he was up and moving until his feet touched a smooth, and soft surface. Kiku looked down to see the sight of a burgundy rug tinted yellow.

Kiku let out a childish giggle as he scraped his feet across the beautiful carpet, only to have his face turn to a scowl as he picked up the 'prepared' clothes for his meeting.

Kiku really had no true idea of the difference between men and women's clothing in China since he was foreign to this country, but it certainly appeared very _different _than to what the Japanese thought it should have been.

The outside fabric of the silk clothing (it seemed to Kiku that perhaps the only textures the Chinese and Cantonese used was _only _silk) looked completely masculine and appropriate for his gender, but he deeply frowned upon the undergarments attached to the package.

He, of course, had men's underwear, but there appeared to be a (thankfully loose and covered) corset-like….shirt, maybe?

The outer robe itself was quite stunning, though. The base color for the hanfu was a nice dark teal that was similar to his navy-colored dress he had on now, but it seemed more mature in a strange way and darker as well. Kiku liked that part. It reminded him of kimonos he used to wear back home, in the old days. Excluding the white-tipped turtleneck-like collar wrapping a bit uncomfortably around his neck.

A thick kaku obi and many deep plum ribbons laced around each other beside Kiku's robe. Well….they weren't really obis, but Kiku was uncertain of what he should call Chinese sashes. They did look a bit similar, anyway.

This formal dress-wear also differed from Japanese style wear by how much shorter it was. Kiku estimated that maybe his old kimono back home reached to maybe about his ankles, while this article of clothing stopped at just a bit longer than his waist. The 'obi' made Kiku's clothes puff up just a bit, too.

A white pattern making a crooked looking 'y' wrapped close to the neck of the Chinese clothing. Kiku had to admit everything did pull together very nicely. Modesty is, after all, the best contribute. It wasn't too fancy or plain, but just….perfect.

Kiku's foot accidently bumped into a rounded object sitting beside the ottoman where he had gone through an overview of his clothes. He looked down to be met with sight of shoes that, when Kiku experimentally slipped into them, fit just right. They were moderately comfortable as well.

He gave the _also _pristine shoes a last glance before turning to trot awkwardly toward the bathing areas. He didn't really look around the bathroom; he just wanted to get this shower and 'meeting' over with.

The only thing that came to his mind before sliding off his loose clothes and stepping into the currently empty (but to be filled with hot water soon) tub was that pure pearly texture and overwhelming, but wonderful scent of jasmine surrounding him and soothing his aching bones even before the water top was switched to 'on'.


	3. Conference meetings are always stressful

The big Asian man grunted suspiciously with houndish and narrowed slits for eyes. Kiku waited impatiently as the guard re-read his letter of 'V.I.P' membership, turning it over at all angles and holding it up to the light streaming out of the open window as if expecting to find a trace or sign of forgery.

Kiku unconsciously tapped his foot on the ground to keep himself occupied; the guard shot him a dirty look, thinking that the foreigner was just being cheeky. The guard recognized any Japanese when he saw one, even before he had read or seen the letter stating a certain male in front of him of his race.

It was in that moment that Kiku realized any hopes of blending in were laughable. Naïve, if you were to ask any Chinese who was familiar with his situation and was willing to give an opinion. Be it theirs or not.

Finally, seeming to accept that he would find no signs of false intentions here, the Chinese returned his note to Kiku, who took it quickly and folded it neatly in his own hand.

He bowed out of respect to the Asian. The other man seemed surprised to have an enemy show him such an indicator of recognition through tradition. Looking flustered, the guard numbly gestured to the door and reached to open it for his empire's guest. Kiku thanked him and barely registered the door shutting softly behind him.

The moment the door to the room had closed, all eyes were on Kiku. He noticed there was a wide variety of ages from young to old, and at the very head of the table, was Yao Wang. The true emperor of China was nowhere to be found, only his successor appeared to be present.

How strange.

Kiku knew he was not welcome here instantly. He saw one thin-looking council member lean over to a much older, grey-haired one, and mutter something into his ear. The elder smirked and looked Kiku straight in the eyes. They were a most unusual shade of blue and very milky, and with a start, the Japanese realized the man must be blind. It was so odd though; even though Kiku was sure he could not see him, he swore the man was looking straight through him.

The Japanese stood awkwardly at the doorway, unsure of what to do. Seeming to sense his confusion, Yao made a gesture toward a rolling chair in between to identical, black-haired and eyed women. Understanding, Kiku stiffly walked over and seated himself awkwardly. The woman on the left narrowed her eyes at him, but the other one didn't react at the new company in the slightest.

It was obvious that Yao was in charge of the meeting; even without his status as future ruler of China, that much was apparent from his stance and position at the head of the simple, but still suited table. Yao cleared his throat to gain full attention from the rest of his present secretory. They had all been paying him heed, but over time even they had to admit their scrutiny had grown foggy. Their eyes switched quickly from the new intrusion, and flicked toward the man dressed formally in a dark tuxedo, who was, in fact, Yao Wang.

"Thank you," Yao said sincerely. "Now that we are all present, it is time to begin the session. I would first like to give you my very sincere thanks for being a part of our session. As my father is, regretabally, unable to take place with us, I will be taking lead for now. But it seems prudent to allow an asked Senator of our court to allow the stage first. Attendant Bohai Jianyu, please, you requested the stand first?"

Kiku glanced toward a person that the head of the table seemed to be referring to. The most sour-looking old man Kiku had ever set eyes upon nodded to acknowledge Yao's acknowledgement. The senator stood with a grim expression on his face; like they were discussing bloody warfare or drowning kittens.

He quietly muttered a very grumpy, and insincere 'thank you'. "Members of the court," he began. Kiku was taken aback for a moment. His voice was just as square as his face, but it was just so….deep. Like a baritone. He also took note at the back of his mind that it seemed to be tradition to refer to others by official title.

Who knew? In such a position as he had stuck himself in, any spare information would have roll in survival. Or at least, he could use it for impression's sake. China and his own country may have been different on some levels, but at least their rules for respect were a bit close to similar, and made the whole process of memorization much easier on Kiku's brain.

"We all know why we are present today; in the middle of the celebration such as New Year," The acidic man now speaking shot Kiku an accusing, bitter look.

He felt rising heat invade his cheeks. The faint feeling of embarrassment slowly, but surely began to fog his senses, he could have sworn his eyes even felt bright. There was no use in attempting to push the growing red out of his face; he knew from past experience that once anybody had managed to bring true color to his skin, it was practically impossible to shove it back down. But still, this cranky old pot of _nigami _couldn't _possibly _be trying to say that he was the disruption for their ridiculous holiday?

"Nevertheless," he coughed again, turning away from a still abashed Kiku Honda, "Such necessities are necessary in grim times like this." Many members of the group (Kiku guessed they were all 'senators', or something of that magnitude), nodded in obvious agreement. "The Japanese forces have been pushing our borders too whole-heartedly for too long.

"We have all agreed this problem must be solved, and quickly! We cannot appear weak to such barbarians as Japan!" Kiku already wanted to tune out this conversation. He didn't want to end up so angry he spoke out in defiance. This convention wouldn't be an all-nighter anyway, right? He would last through a lecture he sensed coming on. There was absolutely no point in becoming offended. These people were all completely entitled to have their own opinions.

Even if their impressions were stupid and simple-minded. Without realizing it, Kiku already found himself chanting calmly, inwardly…

'Calm yourself.'

The man named Bohai glared accusingly at them all, his eyes flashing angrily. He slammed his hand down on the wooden table, and the resounding 'THUNK' made almost everyone seated jump. Apparently it was not at all difficult to get him riled quickly, and with no effort on the offender's part.

"Not only would our refusal to investigate in this case further make our case with Japan worse," he practically screamed, "But it would reflect us badly with the rest of the world as well! Before we know it, America will be bombing us with nuclear weapons like the merciless tyrants they are! Russia will send in spies to discover our secrets! Poland will destroy our great government that we have put so much effort into building over the years! Is that what we, the senate, want for our country?"

There was a mass shaking of heads as they all muttered their refusal to appear helpless. Yao did not move. Only steepled his hands and watched the upraised man intently. Kiku wondered with astonishment how he could appear so level-headed while at least two-thirds of the other Chinese and Cantonese around them had already begun fidgeting in their seats, obviously becoming increasingly apprehensive.

"And worse still, if you can believe it…." a sneer crossed his wrinkled old, flabby face as he turned toward Kiku. "We have let one of the traitors into our midst! There is a Jap that we have allowed into our country, the palace! Who's to say such a thing, no matter how "minor" wouldn't reduce our system to bits by a single teenager!"

The heat Kiku had been desperately trying to fight down out of his face once again returned; only this time out of pure anger.

Jap. Is that what he had said? It was not the Chinese's offensive assumption of his country that made his blood pump, but his own phrases. This heinous, disgusting old man actually possessed the nerve to call him a _Jap?_

Kiku wanted to stand up and look him in the eye with an apparent air of defiance. Wanted to tell him right in his flabby face that he should choose his words much more carefully, and that he wondered if his non-existant brain even spat the consequences of his own tactless phrases before he spewed them out mindlessly to the rest of the world.

But, with extreme difficulty, he held his tongue. Why make your situation even worse without pushing the problem completely over the edge?

Yao gave a swift, meaningful look towards Kiku that obviously sensed trouble. The Japanese had not gotten up, had not made a move to speak out for himself. He only sat there, knuckles white, and dark eyes narrowed.

Yao knew that the breaking point between his own senate and the foreigner was waning thin. He had half-hoped his own people and this other teenager could manage through this already tense and awkward meeting without high levels of aggression, but, thanks to his lovely senate, that possibility had already become less than a dream. He could not let such an already thin thread of simple civility snap. He needed this Japanese.

"Ah, Senator Bohai," Yao said eventually when Kiku's hackles started to raise threateningly immediately after Bohai said very clearly something that even Yao did not want to repeat over in his thoughts. "I was wondering…were you going to present your speech on more basis and facts for our _topic?_ To most what you say is indeed true," Kiku became less tense, but his eyes were still narrowed to slits. Yao took these signs as blatant encouragement to continue. "but I would still ask that this discussion remain suited to our original problem. We all still have the same argument and risk, as you say, at hand."

These words did seem to come Kiku down, (as he no longer looked as though he might snap at the next word) but Bohai did not appear to take such an idea to heart.

The elder Chinese man bared his teeth at the raven-haired teen sitting beside two maddeningly calm women, and looked so mad he could spit. His fists clenched and unclenched unyieldingly as the fire in his pitched eyes grew at untamed heights. He sat down after opening his mouth, only to close it again. He crossed his arms and held himself stiffly; he looked like a child who had thrown a tantrum over taking cold medicine, lost an argument, and was forced by hand to remain standing in a corner as punishment.

Yao took note to hire new staff immediately after his appointment.

"Yes, your royal highness. I strayed off-topic. I am truly sorry…" he did not sound very sorry at all. "Please, forgive me and my behavior. It was despicable, and I wish my words had been more carefully chosen. They will be next time."

Yao had no hesitation in nodding and muttering confirmation, but the skin under his eyes still whitened. Just by a bit.

Many of the other background senators shifted uneasily in their seats. Bohai coughed and put his withered and veiny hand politely up to his mouth. Many of the court members looked up from their laps to stare at Yao. He looked again at Bohai, who didn't move from his position of studying the floor. Yao repressed a sigh easily at the old man's stubbornness.

"Right…now, we have already wasted a respectable amount of time by this point in time, and our book on this room is restrictable by time." Kiku could sense, practically feel Yao's impatience. "I will begin the session. You all know why we have gathered here; our forces have been in desperate need for information. Our country has no leads whatsoever on the new Axis powers for the present World War III.

"Japan, America, Russia, Poland, and every other country taking role in the Axis have currently every advantage over us. We know nothing about their powers. None of our own soldiers have stepped up to volunteer for our most needed role in this war. We need information."

He stopped, and said his next words as calmly as if he were simply in conversation at tea time.

"A spy."

What?

Kiku did not react for a moment. The needed a _spy?_

Shocked silence followed these words almost instantaneously as they were spoken; nobody dared to break the tense marsh that seemed to be growing ever rapidly in the air.

Yao was looking directly at Kiku, like he expected him to speak his opinion. But how was he supposed to respond to this? He wasn't serious, was he?

'No.' Kiku thought, stunned, to himself. 'Even if the Chinese were so desperate they wouldn't do something as stupid and reckless as this. Would they?'

Close to all of the other Senates in the room had folded their hands so tightly that their paling knuckles stood out clearly against skin. Half of the room had eyes on the only Japanese present, the others looked warily toward their conference leader.

"What?" a voice reverberated weakly against the room's mane. All eyes turned from the two teenagers to a frail-looking woman; as did Kiku and Yao. She had black hair pulled tightly into a high bun so that her hair could have been mistaken to have been thickened skin turning dark. Her eyes had gone glazed, and even her suit ruffled in all directions.

"I mean, please, Mr. Wang…" she corrected herself quickly, realizing her mistake at politeness. "I mean you nor your ideas no disrespect, none at all, but, an enemy Japanese for a spy? To represent us? He is only a boy, and with absolutely no training that we are aware of. He has not had the chance to prove himself trustworthy or of any value…" she fiddled with her thumbs and looked down.

"I suppose you are correct in the sense, we do need information if we plan to win this war, but at what costs and terms may we use? There must be a better way to send secrets from the Axis and Allies of which we are a part of, but through something as unreliable as this? He could betray us easily if you plan to send him within the heart of the Japanese military," –Kiku shivered madly at the thought of having to join this war and play both sides- "and how would we know they would accept him? Please, sir, I…I mean, we," she beckoned numbly toward a few other intently listening members around her, "do not understand."

The woman who had spoken out shrank in her chair, and refused to fully meet Yao in the face. She cringed slightly when Yao spoke to her, but relief fluttered obviously on her face at his thoughtful, and not at all aggressive tone of voice.

"That is just it though, Mrs. Tso," he started in Mandarin. Damn. Kiku wished he had taken Chinese when he had had the chance… "The Japanese army has grown exceedingly desperate over the last few years their republic has taken turn in this war. They have fallen victim to many fatal losses, and have had little support from even their own allies. It wouldn't take much to persuade them to take in just one more recruit; we can have him trained if necessary.

"He has no knowledge whatsoever of our country's own strategies and secrets, and until he has proved himself to be a valuable asset, he won't have any major information on his conscious. The boy cannot spill if he has nothing to reveal. I doubt that anyone, yes, even a Japanese, would be fool-hearted enough to even think of backstabbing their hosts if they remain under the threat of shame and revelation to the rest of the world. Such news would be global, and most likely spread quickly. He will be easily kept in line."

Yao had the air of someone trying not to smile, and frustration built up higher and higher inside of Kiku as he felt the want to understand his suspicious words. "In the sense of a spy, we have nothing to lose. Let alone from an enemy civilian."

At first there was only an increased amount of tension and silence. Then there was noise and cries in Cantonese and Mandarin, desperate to reach the speaker. One by one Yao would answer the constant bombardment of questions with ease, an eyebrow or a hand raising in slight annoyance very occasionally. Nobody seemed to be at all concerned about Kiku overhearing their inquiries, although it wasn't like the Japanese would have been able to understand them even if he wanted to.

Which he did.

Very, very much.

Yao's voice stayed in that same unconcerned tone as many different voices shouted out to him. He did occasionally answer their astounded reactions, but mostly only replied with "It goes back to what I have already said," or "He will be well trained and ready. It may be a while before our own army will allow this…transaction."

Kiku only sat through this. He could feel the hours race by.

He had gone so numb that he did not register the expressionless woman sitting to his left tap his shoulder (without any hesitation whatsoever) and tell him that many others had already made a steady departure, and that he should too. He barely registered that same woman assigning one of the guards standing directly outside the door to guide him safely back to his room. He did not see Yao's goldish eyes flicker toward him before he too left from the circular steeple, or the grab of yet another hand on his shoulder before he had even reach his bodyguard.

It felt odd for him to say that he had protection now. Only royals were supposed to have 24/7 security, not short teenage Japanese runaways.

The words the unseen man (or at least, Kiku thought it was a man judging by the person's strong muscles) spoke to him also –surprise, surprise- almost seemed to go in through one ear and out the other, but he did not miss them.

"Good luck, kid. You'll need it."


	4. Informalities in a bleak world

"快樂蓮花西點餅乾"

Kiku re-read the title over and over again, mentally absorbing the Chinese characters in his mind. Even on cutesy blue snack packets Chinese looked like the absolute most complex, difficult, _frustrating_ thing in the world. Kiku honestly wondered how anyone had the natural ability in them to learn hanzi; just looking at the characters made his brain hurt.

His eyes moved to the smaller English letters written in dark ink just below the Cantonese script.

"Happy lotus pastry cookies~"

And below it in Calibri that was so shrunk and obviously forced to fit on the cramped piece of plastic:

"Sugarless with a hint of traditional Asia!"

"_Happy Lotus Pastry Cookies_," Kiku murmured softly under his breath, copying the words written on the bloated snack packet. He skimmed the narrowed English writing once more, and unconsciously underlined it with his index finger as he repeated, "Sugarless with a hint of traditional Asia?" What did that even mean?

"Way to be original, Chuugoku," Kiku mumbled almost serenely. He slowly turned the miniature bag over in his palm, eyes darting back and forth on the packaging and taking in any English letters he caught sight of. He bit his bottom lip and experimentally tugged at the tiny rip in the plastic where, in the same miniscule writing were the words "Tear Here."

Kiku was slightly encouraged to pull down harder onto the baggy as he caught sight of a small, cream-colored something poking shyly out of the growing crack. After what seemed like an eternity to the Japanese, he very carefully and very slowly drew what he assumed were the "_Happy Lotus Pastry Cookies_."

Kiku almost flinched as he threw the empty wrapper carelessly to the floor of his new…bedroom. It felt so odd being able to say that he had his own quarters again, and he didn't want to spoil the flawless room with litter.

That and he hated anything associated with untidiness.

The pastry was smaller than he'd expected once he'd found it in his hand, fingers moving to hold it just in front of his face warily like he was unsure of whether or not eating it would be the best choice. The little cake was a pale shade of yellow-white, and very hard in his hands. There was a slightly odd scent coming off of it, too, but it didn't bother him. It was just different. It reminded Kiku of lemons, maybe?

He took a bite, and the moment his teeth bit into the pastry, it took all of Kiku's high self-control not to devour the tiny cake in one bite. It had been so long since he had tasted something this wonderful.

A mixture of lemon and bread assaulted his tongue and brought the most astonishing feeling to his senses. Moist crumbs caught in his teeth as he happily chewed and sucked on the snack; so good.

He remembered last night he had instantly been brought a small dinner of a seemingly simple air after being escorted back to his new living area. Kiku had lingered in the miso-like soup, and his mouth had watered embarrassingly at the sight of a full plate consisting of cheese crackers, generous slices of plain raw fish, and a full-to-the-brim glass of sparkling water.

That meal had been possibly the most blessed moment of his short 16 years of life here on Earth. Even if that dinner had been small compared to the banquet he had always envisioned a king or emperor eating on a daily business, there had been absolutely nothing wrong with it, and he had savored every second of it.

He was interrupted from his thoughts at the sound of a hard knock on the door.

Kiku hesitated before answering, and swallowed the rest of the cake.

"Come in."

An unfamiliar face, young and tanned with curious black eyes, popped just outside the door frame, and pushed the door open full-on. A thin-lipped mouth smiled at him.

"Ah, konnichiwa, Master Foreigner!" the boy greeted with now-twinkling eyes under a flop of dark hair. Kiku, despite himself, felt a tiny smile tug at his lips. The servant (or at least, Kiku assumed he was a servant) was obviously trying to appear friendly at the use of Japanese context, and Kiku was grateful for the chummy attitude. He was slightly confused at the use of "Master Foreigner", though. Was that his official title here?

The boy seemed relieved that he had been able to light a spark of mutual feeling in the odd, different teen; he had a nice smile. It wasn't as if anybody had told him the Japanese was antagonistic, but he had nevertheless steeled himself for an unfriendly first meeting.

"nǐ hǎo, um, mister…" Kiku trailed off embarrassingly, not knowing what he should call this new arrival.

"Ma En Rong," the boy said firmly, sensing the other's confusion. "My name is Ma En Rong, but you can just call me "Rong" if you like. I'm not very formal."

Kiku only nodded his head. He thought you were supposed to refer to a Chinese by their surname just as what would be expected with a Japanese, but then again, what did he know about Mandarin customs?

"Thank you, Rong-san," Kiku said, and bowed his head respectfully. He was half tempted to ask his question about name formalities in Chinese traditions, but stopped himself. Such a question would be incredulous, and he certainly didn't want to come off as rude.

"Rong-san," Kiku started, moving to look up at the Chinese, "I do not wish to be too straight forward or disrespectful, but why have you come here? Was there another meeting to attend?"

As soon as the thought of having to deal with another convention and all of its members formed in Kiku's mind, he instantly dreaded the thought. The previous session with the Council Members had been disastrous enough in itself, but another one just a single day after the first?

Rong seemed to sense the apprehension in Kiku's voice, because he quickly said while feeling his eyes widen, "Oh no, no! Not a meeting, Laowai, but a practice session. Or at least, I think it was a training session. Supervisors one and two never really give me full expectations or information," he finished, mumbling slightly towards the end of his sentence and brows crinkling slightly to form thin lines on his forehead.

"Supervisors one and two?" Kiku repeated, having to tilt his head up slightly to look Rong full-on in the face. And before he could stop the words from slipping from his mouth, he asked, "Who are they?"

Rong smiled lightly, but it seemed strained, and the next words he spoke had a certain heaviness weighted down on them. "Bosses I think is what you would call people like them in English," he said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. I only started English lessons a few years ago, but the language is still difficult for me.

"But anyway," Rong said hastily once he realized he was babbling, "Supervisor number one is in charge of all things combat and fighting. You know, weapons and training."

_Well_, Kiku thought to himself, _At least I know where to go next_.

"Now, Supervisor number two is strictly dining and food. All kitchen and all recipes are in his area. He can make any gourmet platter as easily as some people blink.

"I'm still an apprentice for the saucier who works in the royal kitchen, so really the only role I have is cleaning"-Rong put one hand into the air palm up-" and "observing," Rong thrust another hand into the air while smiling wryly.

"It's not a very important job, but I know I'll be just important as a Chef De Cuisine one day," Rong concluded, looking absolutely sure and hopeful. "I am still in training, and there's not much experience to be had in a job with so much pressure, but, it's, ah…" A faint blush tinged Rong's cheeks as he realized how in depth he had gotten.

Rong struggled with himself for a moment. "It's complicated," he concluded, looking over at Kiku and silently asking him to leave it at that.

Kiku nodded again. "Hai. I understand."

"Well," Rong started awkwardly, trying to recover his moment of embarrassment, "We should get going. I was given orders to lead you to the dojo where I guess is the place your training will begin. Maybe the just wanted you and Master Kong to meet."

"Master Kong?" Kiku began with a confused expression lingering on his face.

"Supervisor one," Rong said, "Is also known as Kong Lie Nu. Oh, and by the way, please don't call Jiàoshòu 'Supervisor one'," Rong added warily as he beckoned toward Kiku to follow him out the doorway.

The Chinese boy waited a moment for Kiku to catch up with his fast pace as he half-walked, half-sprinted down the lighted hallways.

"He hates being informal with anyone, or for anyone to act informal when speaking with _him._ Him," Rong said, "Meaning Supervisor number one. Supervisor number two isn't as strict with formalities as Kong-Xiānshēng is, but he is still extremely snappy and… old."

"But if you ever do let slip and call Kong-Xiānshēng 'Supervisor number one'," Kong said with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, "Just don't tell him that you got the nickname from me, okay?"

Kiku found himself grinning. It felt odd to smile so widely.

"Deal."

Rong passed a corner and looked over his shoulder at Kiku once again; they were both able to tell this could be the start of a new friendship.

* * *

"How long has it been now?"

"Three days."

"Ah-ah, the moon's cycle is close to ending. It has not been only three days."

"Fine then. It has _almost _been four days."

"Correct. It has been four days since your plan came into action. But, you are aware of your limits on this newly wed… proposition?"

"Shi. Yes I am."

The Emperor smiled gently at his son. But not the kind of smile an adult would give a small child who insisted they were right; it was the kind of warmth one would give to empathize with another.

"I am getting old, Yao," he rasped, holding back a fit of coughing that was rising in his throat. "I am not longed for this world. I will not be able to help you forever.

"You will be the next Emperor after I have passed."

Yao nodded solemnly, and looked down. He did not want to meet his father's eyes. "I know, Father," he whispered. "You have told me this all before. The line of Asian heirs, I mean," Yao added quickly. "I understand how bloodlines work. You don't have to tell me again."

The Emperor shifted slightly in his bed, taking care to avoid the plastic tubes connected to his wrists. He was not a very large man, in fact, he was actually quite lithe and tall in frame, reaching a booming height of 6'2 when standing up, but he nevertheless had to take caution when even attempting to move. The doctors who had hooked him up to the machine standing just behind his bedside had worked extremely hard to operate his 'sickness', and Fu Chong did not wish to alter their hard work.

"But I do need to tell you, Yao," The Emperor said matter-of-factly, not looking perturbed or even slightly disgruntled with the knowledge that his reign was coming to an end. Yao did not understand how his father could be so calm when he was practically in the face of death; it was one of the many things he admired about the man. Yao winced and instantly regretted thinking such things.

"Your brother, Li, has chosen to walk a different path than you yourself have. He has given up the role as second to the heir of China for his own freedom, and that is a decision that will affect us all, but will have the most influence on your position…" The emperor went quiet, and looked into Yao's eyes with surprising ferocity.

"I want to see my second érzi again, Yao. That is _my_ proposition for you. I want to give your brother my well-tidings and apologies before my passing.

"I must know he has forgiven my actions before I die."

Yao's eyes widened in dumb shock, but he did not question his father's motives. He understood what the man wanted, and he understood what was fueling it, he just didn't know why.

Li had abandoned The Palace when he was only a small boy of 13 years old. He had said that, after dwelling very deeply into his thoughts, he did not want to stay here. He did not want to remain an heir to one of Asia's greatest superpowers.

Their father had not believed Li at first, and thought nothing of his younger sibling's statement. But Li had not let the idea go. He had always held a certain cryptic air to himself, but his behavior for the last two months before he had disappeared one night were even stranger and blurrier than what was usual for the boy.

The Emperor had refused to so much as even speak of Li since that fateful day, and, as Yao could recall, this was the first time since then he had acknowledged having a second son.

"Do you remember Li's funeral?" Yao's father asked with misty eyes, and turning, with extreme difficulty to look at his oldest son. Yao tensed immediately. Like the unavoidable prospect of his Emperor's, his _father's _imminent doom, he did not like to linger on Li's 'funeral'.

"After Li cast himself from the throne," The Emperor began, "We held a burial in The Palace gardens. We convinced the entire media that Li had committed suicide under the pressure of his bloodline, and they believed us. All of China was convinced that our family was breakable. They all thought our Li was weak.

"Yes, everyone in the country mourned. We received so many letters of sympathy, even from the other countries. We never did finish reading them all, did we?"

Yao knew it wasn't a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway.

"No. No, I don't think we ever did. There are still a few in the… attic, if you can call it that."

The Emperor waited patiently for Yao to finish his answer before saying softly with his eyes lowered, "I dug out letters from Japan, too. I hadn't thought that they, of all nations, would really be moved, but they were. I had thought it was odd."

The Emperor hesitated. "Yao," he said, voice cracked. Yao looked over at the older, and was stunned to see tears well up in his father's black eyes. "I hate to ask of you something so impossible, even hopeless this early on in your career, but I must. I-I want you to find Li."

Yao rushed quickly to his father's side as he burst into an unexpected fit of wheezy coughing, and the tears that had been threatening to spill from his eyes started to stream uncontrollably down his face.

"Bù, yáomíng!" The Emperor hacked, holding one trembling hand up to his son's chest as he drew nearer. "Yuǎnlí!"

Yao stopped abruptly in his tracks with his palms held in mid-air as if he was unsure of what to do with them. The sight of the frail, elderly man in front of him crying and shaking like a small child broke his heart.

"Yuǎnlí," his father repeated solemnly. Yao backed away slowly, looking at this once strong man now broken and sobbing. Yao did not want to put any distance between himself and his father, be it spiritually or physically. He wanted to spend what little time Yao knew this wonderful, intelligent person he had always looked up to had before he really was gone.

The Emperor's choked coughing came to a halt, but his tears did not falter. Yao silently willed his hands to stop shaking.

"Y-Yao, please, the Yīshēng, call him…" he gasped in between breaths as he desperately tried to level his breathing. "Qǐng gǎnkuài xíngdòng ba!"

Yao barely nodded before he felt himself slam the door open with unnecessary force due to the adrenaline and fear pumping itself through his veins. He sprinted with almost inhuman speed to…to he didn't know where. The doctor's office. Yes, that is where he was supposed to go.

He could barely hear the sound of his own voice over the rapid beating of his heart as he screamed over and over again for the doctor, for anybody.

Li had not yet been pushed to the back of his mind. His Ni-ni still lingered in Yao's mind, and in that moment of horror and dread and uncertainty, Yao silently swore an oath:

_I will find you, Li. I will find you for our father._

* * *

From the nearby rooftops of Beijing, a man was crouched on his feet, waiting. His handsome, sharp facial features had remained curiously emotionless until the sound of panicked, abrupt screams and cries of despair echoed throughout the streets below. A cruel smirk lit his features all at once as he watched the scene of terror unfold throughout the entire country of China.

Nobody would be able to see him from such heights that he was secured from, of that he was sure, but if there was one thing he had learned throughout his experience of life, suspicion was spread easily. He must be cautious.

Pàn jūn were always on the lookout and on always the move, but even he had to admit that there little organization and all of its members could become a bit too cocky a bit too easily.

"Lovely, isn't it?" a woman's voice said softly, but coldly behind him. The man turned to look over his shoulder.

"Ah, Ehuang," he greeted her as though they were childhood friends, which they very well could have been, "You're here. It took you long enough; I thought you'd never come."

The woman named Ehuang smirked to match her male counterpart. "Not to worry; I was, ah, sidetracked, shall we say. It will not happen again.

"But don't linger on me," she cooed, and ran her fingers over the other man's knuckles. "Tell me, Sauron, how have you been? You called me here for a reason"-she flicked her wrist, and there was a dimly glowing white wristlet-"are you so informal as to not even enlighten me with reason? I'm not psychic, you know."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she added quietly, challengingly, "I'm not Juan."

Sauron nodded after another moment's silence, eyebrows rising. "I am aware of that, Ehuang. You see, Juan was much prettier, and much more level-headed than you could ever be. Your two beings are not hard to differentiate."

Ehuang's hackles rose immediately, and her oddly light brown eyes lit with anger. Her gloved fists clenched and brought her sharp fingernails digging into her palms. But she did not lash out.

"I see," she whispered in her quietest, deadliest voice. It was obvious she was struggling to keep her rising temper in check. "I will make sure not to forget, Sauron."

Ehuang grumpily sat back down beside the much taller, black-clad Sauron. She had not realized she had stood up in anger. Her previous fury at the other man did not seem to be long-lived, though. Her cold eyes sparkled almost playfully as she said while staring down at the chose ensuing below the rooftops, "You Nordics and your desire for order." She sighed, and tisked under her breath. "And of course, this is how you plan to present that order, Sauron? This seems more like a hidden longing for power."

Sauron did not smile at her uncaring tone. "Was it really that obvious? A pity; I had hoped after years of trying my more docile side would have dominated my sadistic one. I would not, of course, want to-"

"Is the Emperor dead?" Ehuang asked, cutting him off. "I don't want your small talk anymore. Has he at least been injected with the poison? Do the doctors suspect anything?"

"Now now, kjære, one question at a time," Sauron said coolly, while pulling a pack of cigarettes from what seemed out of the thin air, and taking his time in lighting his first cigar. A cloud of smoke bloomed from his mouth as he exhaled deeply. He set the cigar lighter he had just finished using down beside his dangling legs.

Ehuang pinched her fingers over the bridge of her nose as Sauron blew another circlet of smoke from the cigar. "That, that _was _close enough to one question," she coughed and scooted slightly away from the smoking man. "You know, you really need to break your smoking habit. It's bad for your lungs and just makes you smell like plain shit," she said matter-of-factly.

There was no reaction from the Norwegian man. "Right, well, I don't really care what you think of me, now do I? You already know this, my dear Chinese empress. Stop asking stupid requests and live out your own life while I am granted the will to do what I wish with mine."

His eyes glazed over for a moment. "The Emperor has been injected. He was poisoned over three weeks ago. Euron is a deadly enough poison, but it certainly takes long enough to take any effect on its host.

"And in answer to your question, Ehuang, no; the doctors are ignorant and suspect nothing. At best, their closest guess to the root of China's dear leader would be maybe cerebrovascular or ischemic diseases."

A pause.

"And at worst?" Ehuang asked after Sauron did not continue. Sauron spit his used cigar out into the streets below, and turned to stare Ehuang full-on in the face.

"At worst Pàn jūn is in some very deep trouble."

A gloating smile once again tainted Ehuang's features as she leaned unto her partner's broad shoulder.

"Too right we have."

* * *

**And there was the fourth chapter! I hope you like it~ (Oh, and by the way, "Li" is Hong Kong)**

**Translations:**

快樂蓮花西點餅乾: **"Happy lotus pastry cookies" in Chinese**

**Chuugoku: "China" in Japanese **

**Konnichiwa: Hello in Japanese**

**n****ǐ**** h****ǎ****o: An informal use of "hello" in Chinese**

**Hai****: "Yes" in Japanese**

**Laowai: A term of endearment that can be used whan speaking with foriegners**

**Jiàoshòu: Used to show respect to those in a higher position than oneself in Chinese**

**Xiānshēng: A formal title used as "Mr." in the Chinese language**

**Shi: Yes in Chinese**

**Érzi: "Son" in Chinese**

**Bù, yáomíng: "No, Yao" in Chinese**

**Yuǎnlí: "Stay back" in Chinese**

**Yīshēng: "Doctor" in Chinese**

**Qǐng gǎnkuài xíngdòng ba: "Please, quickly" in Chinese**

**kjære: "Dear" in Norwegian**


End file.
